Thick as Thieves
by RadicalEdward8
Summary: A new addition to the team brings out something old, something new, something "borrowed," and...Pops.
1. Chapter 1: And The Living Is Easy

Disclaimer: I do not own Lupin III. I do not own any of its characters, either, or any of the songs quoted in chapter titles or chapter headings. Heck, I don't even own the computer on which I wrote this. And I definitely didn't make any money off of this little project. And so, having addressed the formalities, here goes:  
  
Ch. 1: ...And The Living Is Easy  
  
"Taxman's taken all my dough, and left me in my stately home, lazing on a sunny afternoon..." --The Kinks, "Sunny Afternoon"  
  
Arsene Lupin III watched, mesmerized, as Fujiko rubbed sunscreen into her pale, perspiring skin. Her hands worked their way along her calves, over her thighs, and hovered briefly at her stomach. When they traced along the lines of her bikini top, running over the tops of those marvelous breasts, Lupin could no longer repress a small, impatient, undeniably horny sigh. Fujiko giggled.  
  
"Silly Lupin, you're not wearing any sunscreen! You'll burn to an absolute crisp!"  
  
She stood up toweling some excess lotion off of her chest, and walked over to his pool chair, sunscreen in hand. An intoxicating mix of coconut oil and Chanel No. 5 reached Lupin's nose as she sat down at his feet and cooed, "want some of mine?" Lupin's head swam.  
  
"Ohhhh, Fuji-cakes," he groaned. "You know I do..."  
  
"Why, what do you...oh, Lupin!" Fujiko laughed. "You naughty boy!" She leaned over him, and as he tilted his head up to kiss her, she whispered again "Lupin."  
  
"Oh, Fujiko!"  
  
"Lupin," she repeated, her voice more insistent. Her voice was also deeper than normal, he noticed. And she wasn't cooing anymore.  
  
"Fuji-cakes?"  
  
"LU-PIN" this new deep voice bellowed. Fujiko's features began to melt away before his astonished eyes, revealing black hair, an olive complexion, and...a beard?  
  
Arsene Lupin III awoke with a shout, and found himself face-to-face with the man who'd invaded his dream. "Aaah! Ew! Bleah! Damn it, Jigen!" He floundered and fell off the sofa in a heap.  
  
Daisuke Jigen just snorted and lit a cigarette. "Kill your buzz or something?" Lupin picked himself up and rubbed his eyes, grumbling.  
  
"Let's just say pink bikinis don't suit you." Jigen raised an eyebrow, and then decided he didn't even want to know, and wouldn't even ask.  
  
"They don't suit your mother, either," he retorted. "Anyway, the Fujiko Fantasy Hour is going to have to go on temporary hiatus. It's almost time to go." Lupin stuck out his tongue as the gunman turned to leave the room.  
  
When Jigen had gone, he flopped back onto the sofa, hands folded beneath his head, and closed his eyes again. "Mmm," he said, "coconut oil..."  
  
"DAMN IT, LUPIN..." Lupin growled in frustration and sprung up from the couch again.  
  
"ALL RIGHT," he hollered. "I'm on my way!"  
  
A few moments later, Lupin walked out to the driveway, where his companions had been waiting for him in their car of choice, a vintage convertible. He climbed--a little too eagerly--over Fujiko, eliciting a squeal of protest, and dropped into the back seat. Goemon, wearing his best "perturbed samurai" face, simply nodded a greeting to his seatmate.  
  
"It's about friggin' time," Jigen snarled as he turned out of the driveway, picking up speed. "This old roadster doesn't idle well. It's bad for the engine."  
  
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," said Lupin, leaning over from the back seat to snatch away Jigen's hat. "What's with you today, huh? Feeling your age or something?"  
  
"Oh, why don't you leave him alone, Lupin," the still-indignant Fujiko jumped in. She took back Jigen's hat and placed it gently on his head. The gunman grunted his thanks. "After all," she added, "you were the one who needed the afternoon nap."  
  
"I didn't need it for the rest, Fuji-Cakes, if you know what I mean." Lupin snickered and gave her a wink. Fujiko made a noise of disgust and sat back in her seat, arms folded over her chest.  
  
"Pervert," she muttered.  
  
"Indeed," Goemon chimed in. "That was an abundance of undesired information." Lupin snorted.  
  
"That's what I'm here for," he chirped. "All right, then. Now that we're all here, let's see some game faces, kids." He leaned back in his seat, basking in the sunlight, and shouted to the surrounding countryside, "This one's going to be a heist for the record books!" 


	2. Chapter 2:Lupin in the Sky with Diamonds

Disclaimer: All characters in the pages below, with the exception of Alex Rhodes, belong to Monkey Punch and other folks. I don't own Harry Winston either...if I did, do you think I'd be tooling around with short stories online? As always, no money paid to me, and I still don't even have my own computer.  
  
*Author's note: To all the nice folks who read and reviewed, thanks so much for all the encouragement...Sorry chapter 2 took so long. This is my first story on fanfiction.net, and I am going to try like hell to keep the chapters coming with a quickness, but people keep coming up with other stuff for me to do. It looks like this story might be a long one, but don't worry, from now on our guys (and Fujiko) are going to have a plot to work with. The time period on this is the mid-seventies, in keeping with the original series; the diamond sale discussed in this chapter actually happened, in 1974. Prices have been somewhat inexactly adjusted for inflation and so forth, so if they seem low, that's why.  
  
Also, on a slightly digressed note, it seems there are two other RadicalEdwards on this site, but I am not either of them. So, from RadicalEdward III, here's some more Lupin III.  
  
Ch. 2: Diamonds and Guns  
  
Two hours later, two beaming young newlyweds took their first-class seats on a flight to Los Angeles, California. The groom stowed their bags and flopped enthusiastically into the window seat. He gazed out the window as the plane took off, and then turned to his wife.  
  
"Would you believe all this leg room, honey? This really is living!" He took her hand and kissed it, leaning close against her shoulder. The bride, a pert redhead who seemed a little embarrassed by her new husband's grandly affectionate gestures, flagged down a passing flight attendant.  
  
"Excuse me, miss," she asked timidly, a blush rising to her cheeks, "but would it be possible...could we maybe have some champagne? I've never flown first-class before, and"--she whispered conspiratorially, showing off a gold wedding band-- "we have a lot to celebrate today." The flight attendant smiled, congratulated the couple, and promised to be right back with a bottle of champagne, compliments of the airline. The groom removed his smoky green aviator glasses, kissed his girl on the cheek and grinned broadly.  
  
"Baby cakes, you're priceless. Give us another kiss!" The redhead smirked.  
  
"Mm-hm. Speaking of priceless," she said, batting her eyelashes, "don't you have something you want to let us in on, *Lover*?" He chuckled mischievously and tucked his glasses into a shirt pocket.  
  
"Ohhh yes, how thoughtless of me...I almost forgot." He leaned over his bride and across the aisle, where a bespectacled middle-aged professor and a ponytailed businessman in pinstripes seemed to be arguing philosophy.  
  
"You must learn to transcend these small material troubles," the businessman was saying. "Buddha teaches that a wise man..."  
  
"Transcend my ass," interjected the professor. "MY Buddha teaches that a wiseguy who doesn't pay his debts gets a boot in the butt."  
  
"Your Buddha also has strange philosophies on the subject of beards."  
  
"You leave the beard out of this. You owe me a hundred fifty big ones from last night's poker game, and that's all there is to it." The professor smugly pushed his spectacles up on his nose and stuck out his tongue at the businessman, who merely grunted and closed his eyes.  
  
"Ahem," said the groom, tapping the professor on the shoulder.  
  
"What? He lost the game, he picked on the beard, now he has to pay up," the professor said with a shrug. "Them's the rules."  
  
"What? Listen, if you two are finished arm-wrestling your way to nirvana, you might want to tune in to what I'm saying over here. Can you call a five- minute truce?" The two looked at one another. The businessman scowled, the professor grinned, and then both turned to the groom.  
  
"All right, Lupin, I'll bite," said the professor. "What's up that polyester-covered sleeve of yours?"  
  
"The game is diamonds, my bookish buddy. Personally, I would have preferred Hearts," he added, pinching his seatmate gently on the arm, "but Fuji-cakes wouldn't hear of it." Three pairs of eyes rolled, and one slender elbow made its way into Lupin's ribcage. "Yee-OWCH," he yelped. "Some blushing bride."  
  
"It would be wise for you to return to the point, perhaps," said the businessman.  
  
"Fine, fine. Yeesh," Lupin muttered as he procured a booklet from his jacket pocket. Fujiko squealed when she saw the name printed on its cover.  
  
"Oooh! Harry Winston!" She clasped the book in her carefully manicured hands and flipped through the pages of precious gems. "Oh, Lupin," she moaned, "these are positively delectable!"  
  
"Harry Winston? As in the Rodeo Drive Harry Winston?" Jigen took the spectacles off his nose and snatched the booklet from Fujiko.  
  
"That's right, the 'King of Diamonds' himself. The House of Winston has been giving the glitterati its glitter for decades. On Oscar night, they loan out millions of dollars' worth of gems to Hollywood's honorees..."  
  
"Yeah, but the Oscars aren't for months, and we're already headed for L.A.," Jigen put in. "What gives? You figure it'll take that long just to case the joint?"  
  
"You didn't let me finish. You're right, the Academy Awards aren't for months. But *our* Oscar night is next Tuesday, when the House of Winston conducts the largest diamond sale in history." He paused for dramatic effect. "The stone to be sold is priced at $24,500,000." Jigen whistled.  
  
"All right, now that got my undivided attention."  
  
"I thought it might. The Star of the East weighs in at almost 95 carats. It was 'born' in the 1600s, and once belonged to the royal families of the Ottoman Empire. It disappeared during the Rebellion of 1909, and somehow popped up for sale in Paris, alongside--you'll never guess it--the Hope diamond. Now the Hope's sitting collecting dust in the Smithsonian, but the Star's arriving at the Beverly Hills salon tomorrow afternoon. And leaving the Beverly Hills salon, with us, tomorrow night. I thought about snagging the Oscar deliveries," Lupin assented, "and who knows? Maybe we'll pay Mr. Winston a little return visit, to 'thank the Academy...'"  
  
The flight attendant returned to the cabin, bearing glasses and a bottle of Veuve Cliquot. The passengers fell back into character. "...But first things first," Lupin caroled as he poured champagne for his compatriots. "To true love...and all its facets!"  
  
*** Inspector Zenigata was having trouble keeping himself composed. Naturally a rather twitchy man, he didn't deal well with cramped quarters or irritating noises, and this Los Angeles-bound DC-9 was full of both. Moreover, the enormous women sitting on either side of him were sound asleep against his shoulders, ensuring that his trench coat would never again take its proper shape. He grumbled and rapped his fingers impatiently against the armrest.  
  
"Nnngh," he groaned. "...too tall for these stupid seats...What the heck is taking so long?"  
  
The flight attendant asked the cabin to prepare for landing. The inspector sighed. Lupin and his gang would be landing right about now. He'd probably see them, disguised as nuns or cops or tourists, hanging around the airport bars while he was retrieving his bags. But he wasn't going to try to nab them; not just yet. He rubbed his hands together with a greedy, exultant chuckle. No, he was going to be patient if it killed him. Zenigata had a new ace up his sleeve, one that was waiting for him in L.A., and this time he damn well wasn't going to show his hand too soon.  
  
The plane touched down with a bump, rattling the passengers around and pinning the inspector even more firmly between the beefy shoulders of his seatmates.  
  
"Damn you, Lupin," he mumbled. "Once I get you behind bars, mark my words, I swear I'm never getting on an airplane again." 


	3. Chapter 3: Three to Get Ready

Disclaimer: As per the usual, I don't own any of these characters or songs, and I don't make any money from this.  
  
Chapter 3: Three to Get Ready  
  
(11:30 p.m. Sunday)  
  
You had to hand it to Beverly Hills, Jigen thought. The weather was horrible and the people were worse, but at least you could expect a well- stocked wet bar in your hotel. He took a long, savoring sip of his scotch on the rocks, and turned his attention back to the blueprints Lupin had spread out on the coffee table.  
  
"The salon has three rooms: two for display, and a back wing for storage and security. The building does have a basement, used for utilities only, accessible from these tunnels"--here Lupin pointed to a spot on the blueprints--"which are part of the sewage system. Apparently the idea was to have repairmen get to the building's utilities without walking through the salon itself. The tunnel entrance has been sealed, but it's no longer alarmed." He flipped through a manila file folder and pulled out a stack of glossy black-and-white photographs. He handed the first of them to Goemon. "Think you and that pointy friend of yours can handle this?" Goemon examined the picture closely.  
  
"Most assuredly."  
  
"All right, so we get into the basement. There's a door to the upstairs, but we're going to bypass it, because it locks from the outside, and I don't want to cut more up than we have to. This is a minimum-damage operation, guys. The sale is to take place early enough in the morning as it is, and I'd like it if our little visit isn't discovered until sale time. When the store opens, they should have no idea it's been robbed."  
  
"Okay, fair enough," Jigen said. "So how're we getting from the basement to the salon?"  
  
"Through this." Lupin handed the stack of photos to Jigen. "The main ventilation shaft. The portion large enough for us to crawl through takes us straight from the basement into the second display salon, out of view of the street--just an extra plus."  
  
"You take these?" Jigen asked, tipping up the brim of his hat to look at the pictures.  
  
"Sort of," Lupin replied. " 'Abe Chenowski' of Duluth, Minnesota paid the House of Winston a most educational visit this afternoon, while you guys were unpacking."  
  
"Ah," said Goemon. "The 'fascinated tourist with a camera' bit is always quite useful in California."  
  
"Funny how people never wonder why I'm taking pictures of doorways and ventilation shafts instead of landmarks and famous people."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"Well," Jigen said grimly, "nothing against 'Abe,' but these pictures of his are pretty discouraging."  
  
"That was going to be my next topic," said Lupin. "It's no cakewalk. It's no Mask of Tutankhamen, either, but it definitely has its drawbacks."  
  
"Such as?" Fujiko looked up from her nail file.  
  
"Oh, so you're listening after all," Jigen said snidely.  
  
"Stow it, Jigen," Fujiko retorted impatiently. "Three rooms, access to a basement through the sewers, and the basement door should be no match for Goemon's Zantetsu. Where are the drawbacks?" Lupin held up the first of the photographs.  
  
"I'm getting to that," Lupin assured her. "This second room, where we'll land once we crawl through the ventilation shaft, is rife with motion sensors and video cameras." He pointed to their positions on the blueprint.  
  
"Could we not cut the power, as we have done in the past?" Goemon asked.  
  
"Ah, not this time. That's another thing I'm getting to. The salon consists basically of three rooms, as I said," Lupin explained, "but within this third back room there are a number of different sections for jewel storage. Each section locks individually, with a slightly above-standard combination lock. That's time consuming, potentially, but no big deal. It's this first door, between the display lounge and the storage wing, that's the doozy." He held up the last picture.  
  
"Ooh," Jigen winced. "Voice recognition. That's harsh."  
  
"Yeah. The lock only recognizes two peoples' voices: the head manager, and Harry Winston himself. And so if we cut the power..."  
  
"We won't be able to open the voice-recognition lock."  
  
"Precisely."  
  
Jigen stroked his beard thoughtfully, and took another swig of scotch.  
  
"Well then," he said, "it's a good thing we're no amateurs. You got our assignments, man?"  
  
"Have I ever told you, Jigen," Lupin asked, "how much I like the way you think?"  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
(9:00 a.m. Monday)  
  
From his perch atop a rocky, brush-covered hillside, Goemon Ishikawa watched a few thin rays of sun fight to shine through Southern California's early-morning cloud cover. Far below him, red stucco rooftops and winding roadways filled the expanse of land between him and the city.  
  
"Hey," Jigen said brightly, sipping a cup of convenience store coffee. "Beverly Hills isn't so bad, once you get twenty or thirty miles beyond the city limits."  
  
"It is really a most distressing vista," Goemon said, waving one thin hand toward the rust-colored smog staining the heavens above Los Angeles. "Like the smudged handprint of man impressed upon nature's beauty." Jigen finished buttoning on a pair of coveralls, pulled a workman's cap over his long hair, and sighed.  
  
"Goemon, you could make a man start drinking before lunch, you know that? It's kind of impressive."  
  
"It *would* be impressive, if the man in question were not you, Daisuke."  
  
"Touche," Jigen replied. As he placed a matching workman's cap on Goemon's head, he gave it a tug and pulled it down over the samurai's eyes. The two stood up and made their way to the van parked just beyond the side of the road, marked "Airtight Security Systems." Goemon pulled the van back out onto the street, where he stopped a moment.  
  
Jigen leaned out his window and called out, "sorry about the inconvenience, guys. Thanks for the wheels!" The two bound and gagged men lying in the roadside brush merely groaned. Goemon sped away down the hillside, in the direction of the smog.  
  
**************************************************************************** ***** (1:30 p.m. Monday)  
  
"WELcome to the House of WINston," a salesman gushed as a well-dressed older gentleman shepherded a stunning blonde girl into the salon. "And what might we be looking for today? Perhaps something to rival Madame's exquisite beauty?" The gentleman let his eyes travel over the salesman, from his too-large tie clip to to his bad shoes.  
  
"My good man," he said, stroking his whiskers, "I've no idea what *you're* looking for. But tonight is this young lady's first movie premiere, and *she* is looking for something to complement her gown. And *I* am not looking for anything at all--I'm merely financing this little escapade."  
  
"I see," the chastened salesman replied meekly. He signaled to a middle- aged woman who stood some distance away, at a counter. "Eliza will help you with any item you care to see." Eliza came out from behind the counter and shook hands warmly with the gentleman and his companion.  
  
"See here now, Eliza," the gentleman said kindly. "We've got a premiere tonight, and I want this girl here to shine like the sun. Can you help us?" Eliza nodded, and turned to the young woman.  
  
"What is your name, dear?" The girl shyly cast her eyes down before murmuring,  
  
"Marilyn."  
  
"Now, Marilyn, my dear, why don't you tell me all about your gown." Eliza took Marilyn by the elbow and they walked off into the second room of the salon, leaving the older gentleman to wander about the store.  
  
It was lucky for Fujiko that a young ingenue on her first trip to Harry Winston is expected to seem awed and excited; for despite her considerable acting skill, she could not suppress a tremble at the sight of so many exquisite gems. She took advantage of her reaction to grab hold of the doorway into the second room, as if to steady herself, and slipped a tiny metal disk onto the door frame--just across from the door's motion sensor. "Marilyn" gushed most genuinely as Eliza placed garlands of diamonds and emeralds against her bare neck, making sure to rest her girlishly eager hands on the cases and tap more of the disks into place on their stands. Finally, only one sensor remained; but it was mounted in the upper right hand corner, just inches from the ceiling. Moreover, Eliza's constant attentions prevented "Marilyn" from wandering in that direction. She checked her watch; they had only a few minutes before the Star of the East was scheduled to arrive. But before she had time to begin worrying, a realization struck her.  
  
"The watch!" She thought. It was the same watch she had worn to plant a homing device on the Ukiyoe print in New York--the one with the spring loader embedded in the face. While Eliza went on about the proper balance of a neckline and a necklace, "Marilyn" clasped her hand demurely over her wrist, and slipped the final disk onto the spring. A moment later, Eliza brought out an exquisite diamond and platinum corsage; "Marilyn's" clasped hands flew to her face, and her index finger touched an almost imperceptible button on the side of her watch. The disk sailed upwards and hit its mark.  
  
"Whew," she breathed.  
  
"I beg your pardon, Miss Marilyn?" Eliza gave her a puzzled look.  
  
"Oh," she replied, "that corsage just plain takes my breath away!" Before Eliza had a chance to respond, four men in dark suits entered the salon, each one handcuffed to a black, wheeled jewel cart. Behind them walked a staid elderly man with a portfolio tucked under his arm. "My goodness, but they look all official," Marilyn said. "Who are they?" Eliza leaned in close to whisper her reply.  
  
"The one at the back is Harry Winston himself; those other men are bringing in a gem delivery."  
  
"But so many carts!" Marilyn whispered back. "Are they very large stones?"  
  
"I ought not to be telling you this, but Mr. Winston has been preparing for some time to conduct a very large sale. One of those carts," she said, in excited low tones, "even contains the famous Star of the East!"  
  
"No!" She exclaimed in disbelief. Eliza nodded, and the pair resumed their examination of the corsage.  
  
When the procession reached the door at the back of the room, Harry Winston walked to the front of the line and touched the keypad mounted on the door frame.  
  
"Please establish identity," a thin mechanical voice said.  
  
"Harry Winston."  
  
"Please give the password."  
  
"Diamonds," he said in a raised, singsong voice, "are a girl's best friend."  
  
"Voice patterns verified. Enter." The lock opened with a resounding clap, and Mr. Winston opened the door. He waved the carts in, one by one; as the last one entered, however, he caught sight of a well-dressed gentleman wandering much too close to the door for his comfort. Bristling, he confronted the man.  
  
"Excuse me, sir, but this area is not for customers. May I ask what you are doing here?"  
  
"Ah, whoops," Lupin stammered. "I'm all turned around. Could you point me towards the emeralds?"  
  
The manager eyed him suspiciously. "It's just over there, to your left, where that lady in purple is standing."  
  
"Thanks, buddy. Nice store you've got here." He flashed Winston a disarmingly embarrassed smile and sauntered over to the counter in question as Jigen's voice came over his earpiece.  
  
"We got it, Lupin. Crystal-clear."  
  
Lupin snickered. He watched from the corner of his eye as Winston followed the carts into the vaults. At the emerald counter he praised his "ingenue," who really did look radiant in a teardrop-shaped emerald pendant. But for once, Fujiko's chest did not have Lupin's undivided attention. He kept one eye on the vault door until all four delivery men, followed by Harry Winston, emerged from the vaults and re-locked the door. Lupin and Fujiko checked their watches simultaneously; it was 1:42.  
  
**************************************************************************** *******  
  
(2:30 p.m. Monday)  
  
The Assistant Manager at the House of Winston was starting to get all puffed up in the face. Nobody had told him about the extra security checks that had been ordered, in light of the day's special delivery. But now here were two men with toolboxes and stepladders slung over their shoulders, showing a work order for a full shop-floor inspection. How could he be expected to fulfill his duties as Assistant Manager, he asked the two impassive workmen, if he could not count on communication from his superiors? Yes, the checks were warranted, he was sure. No, he didn't want to interfere with any sort of protocol when there were special circumstances, as--he told them in hushed tones--there certainly were today. But the whole thing was highly irregular.  
  
"By all means, gentlemen," he finally said when he had finished puffing, "go about your work. We at Harry Winston certainly appreciate your expertise. Highly irregular, though," he muttered to himself as he walked back to his post. "No respect for my position here, that much is clear. Most uncalled-for."  
  
"Sheesh," Jigen whispered to Goemon as the manager swept from the room. "If I ever needed a reminder of why I don't have a day job..."  
  
"Hmm," Goemon assented.  
  
"You have such a way with words. Well, let's get to work." Jigen slid the stepladder off his shoulder and climbed up to the security camera that hung just above the storage wing's door. He looked at his watch; it was 2:45, exactly one hour and three minutes since the manager's exit from the vaults. Jigen rewound the tape accordingly, and stopped it just after the moment in question. He then waited for the area under surveillance to empty out, and let the camera record for a period of sixty seconds. He stopped the tape, rewound for one minute, and then reset the camera to play, rather than record.  
  
Not too bad, he thought to himself. Anyone watching the tape would see the Star of the East enter the vault, see the manager exit, and then see a door left completely untouched for the rest of the day. Jigen repeated this process for the four other cameras in the room, then folded up his stepladder and joined Goemon.  
  
Goemon, meanwhile, sat next to one of the display cases, a tiny remote device in his hand.  
  
"Where are they?" Jigen asked. Goemon nodded toward the sides of the two nearest display cases, the doorway into the first display salon, and the upper right hand corner of the room.  
  
"Gotcha," Jigen said, catching sight of Fujiko's planted devices. "Damn, that sensor in the corner's gonna be a bitch to disable. Where'd she put the bug?"  
  
"She did an admirable job, though Buddha alone knows how she did it: the bug is stuck directly on top of the motion sensor." They were conferring in low tones, so as not to arouse the suspicions of the few customers milling about and perusing necklaces.  
  
"Well, what do you know," Jigen said, shaking his head. "That broad's always been full of surprises; guess there had to be a few *good* surprises in there, too. All right, start cranking that little sucker up."  
  
Goemon raised up the remote and began turning the dial in tiny, careful increments. Jigen smiled, hands on his hips. These impulse generators, calibrated to match electrical frequencies and produce interference, were some of his favorite toys. The remote itself had come in handy in Loch Ness a few years back; he'd used it to detonate a field of land mines, so that his feet--and Goemon's and Lupin's--wouldn't have to. The mines had actually been what gave him the idea for the little "bugs." The bugs, once activated, would interfere with the motion sensors, masking the thieves' movements while keeping their hands free--in other words, he wouldn't have to disable the sensors one by one with his remote. On a time-sensitive job like this, they were no less than a godsend; Jigen was damn proud of those bugs.  
  
A brief, high-pitched whine pierced Jigen's eardrums, and the store's alarms began to ring.  
  
"Got it," Goemon said, noting the remote's setting. Jigen pulled a stopwatch out of his coveralls and began timing just as the assistant manager came racing into the second room.  
  
"What! What is this? What's going on?" Goemon waved his hands placatingly.  
  
"We were merely testing the motion detectors' response times," he assured the red-faced manager in tones loud enough to carry over the alarm. "Sorry for the disturbance. Next time we will disable the sound on the alarm system, so as not to disrupt your customers." Goemon turned the remote dial off, and the alarms stopped. The manager mopped his brow with relief.  
  
"Oh," he said shakily. "Quite so. Good, good, gentlemen. Carry on!" Sirens could be heard from the street, headed for the store. Jigen and Goemon walked into the main display room just as a squadron of police pulled into position in the street. Jigen checked his watch.  
  
"Six minutes," he whispered to Goemon. "In daytime traffic. Let's shave a minute off our estimate to be on the safe side." They returned to the second room and began packing up their things, then walked out of the store unnoticed, leaving the manager sputtering his explanations to the police.  
  
"No no, officers, just...routine tests....security measures...special circumstances today, you see...nothing to worry about...highly irregular of course...won't happen again!"  
  
Jigen threw the stepladder and toolbox into the back of the van, exchanging them for two black duffel bags, and followed Goemon across Rodeo Drive to the Rodeo Cafe. Two men in workmen's hats and coveralls drew a few stares from the cafe's customers as they proceeded to the bathrooms. Emerging from the bathrooms, however, the fedora-topped gangster and the stern samurai in his traditional gi attracted no attention whatsoever.  
  
California is a strange place indeed, Goemon thought.  
  
The two men made their way to a corner table near the window, where Lupin and Fujiko had already ordered their first round. Halfway through the room, a slim, redheaded woman rose from her booth and backed up straight into Jigen. The faint scent of lavender reached his nose, and for a moment afterwards, he couldn't breathe.  
  
That hair, he thought. And the scent. It couldn't be...  
  
It wasn't. The woman gasped and spun around; Jigen had a chance to examine her face as she sputtered an apology. No, he reassured himself. She was much too young, hardly twenty-five by his estimate.  
  
"No, no," he mumbled. "My fault, excuse me." He continued on to his table, still feeling like he'd seen a ghost.  
  
"Well done, gentlemen," Lupin sang out as they took their seats. The waitress came by, bearing two martinis, a scotch, and --to Goemon's surprise-- a glass of sake. "Everything's just about ready to go. We'll arrange the getaway cars and so forth when we meet back up at the hotel-- how's midnight sound? Think you guys can entertain yourselves somehow until then?" Three heads nodded. "All right then, midnight it is."  
  
Jigen downed his scotch in a single gulp. "I think I'm just gonna go back to the hotel now. All this sunshine and color's really starting to get to me. Thanks for the drink, man. Catch ya later."  
  
"Hmph," Lupin said, looking at the discarded scotch glass. "Wonder what's eating him?"  
  
"He was perfectly at ease a moment ago," said Goemon. "But bumping into that woman a moment ago seems to have unsettled him."  
  
"Ooh, 'that woman'?" Fujiko chimed in. "Maybe our sour, cynical Jigen is just an old romantic at heart, after all."  
  
"Somehow," Goemon replied, "I am not fully inclined to doubt you."  
  
"Well," said Lupin, "romantic or not, he's only cheated himself out of a second round. More sake, Goemon?" 


	4. Chapter 4: Diamonds and Guns

Disclaimer: Same as the disclaimer from the other three chapters. I don't own any characters from the Lupin III series, or any songs I might quote, or pop culture elements I might mention, and...who the hell cares anyway, 'cause I ain't gettin' paid.  
  
*Author's Note: You reviewers rock! Sorry 'bout the delays.  
  
Chapter 4: Diamonds and Guns  
  
"In the dice game of life/ who gets the last roll?/ The one in the suit?/ The one with the sack?/ The man that hides behind/ his gun and his badge?"  
--The Transplants, "Diamonds and Guns (It's a Wicked World We Live In)"  
  
"Ugh," Fujiko groaned as the dampness seeped into her shoes. "Ankle-deep in sewer muck for the past quarter of a mile. Remind me again why I keep working with you, Lupin?" Lupin spun around, taking Fujiko into his arms and flashing a million-dollar grin.  
  
"My handsome face and tremendous, um, wit? Ow!" He winced as Fujiko's knee came dangerously close to hitting him right in the, um, "wit." She pushed him off and smoothed her rumpled black jumpsuit.  
  
"Pig," she muttered, scanning their surroundings with her flashlight. "We're almost there." She blinked the light twice, and in the distant tunnels, another light responded in kind. "Look, there are Goemon and Jigen."  
  
Moments later, the foursome met up at a rusted-out doorway far beneath the manicured opulence of Rodeo Drive.  
  
"Everything aces with the car, guys?" Lupin asked by way of a greeting.  
  
"We parked it right where you said to park it," Jigen said. "Left the sewer cover off, though. It woulda been too heavy if we were in a hurry..."  
  
"...Which we will be," Lupin added, "if we have to use the emergency getaway car."  
  
"Right," Jigen nodded. "Don't worry, though. We parked the car over the manhole, so it won't draw attention."  
  
"Lucky thing we're all pretty thin," Fujiko put in. "Or the cops would have us for sure, when we got stuck under the car."  
  
"Yeah, well just suck it in, sister, and you'll squeeze out OK," Jigen retorted. Fujiko brought her flashlight down on the gunman's head. "Ow! Bitch."  
  
"Jerk!"  
  
Goemon turned to Lupin, who was watching the tableau half-amusedly and half- impatiently. "It's shameless, the way they flirt."  
  
"Kids, kids," Lupin said, hands raised in a peacemaking gesture, "you can finish this at recess. But first," he jerked one thumb toward the door, "who's going to bring Teacher that big, shiny, insanely expensive apple they've got in there?" Fujiko assumed an angelic expression, while Jigen scowled at her from beneath his hat brim. "That's my little teacher's pet," Lupin said, patting Fujiko's head.  
  
"You sure this is the right door, Lupin?" Jigen asked. "You'd think it would be marked." Goemon shone his flashlight on the floor. At the bottom of the door lay a small placard, which had apparently fallen from the wall some time beforehand. The sign read "Access Tunnels--Rodeo." Jigen sighed.  
  
"All right, all right, no more skepticism out of me. I promise."  
  
"I'm holding you to that promise indefinitely, Jigen," Lupin chuckled. "All right Goemon, do that lovely thing you do." Swiftly and silently as a breath, Zantetsu flashed in the dark sewers; the door fell to pieces an instant later. Inside the tunnel, a few paces away, the thieves found themselves standing before a slightly newer door, whose faded stenciled label read "Winston--Utilities."  
  
"A simple padlock?" Jigen exclaimed. "They really don't expect anyone to know about this entrance, do they?" Goemon made a single, imperceptible cut in the lock, so that it appeared to have been opened normally.  
  
"Beautiful," Lupin said, shaking his head admiringly. He turned to Fujiko. "All right, my dear, it's all yours." He gestured towards the ventilation shaft, partially obscured by a water heater and furnace.  
  
Fujiko swiftly unscrewed the vent's cover, and placed it behind the furnace. With a *very* eager boost from Lupin, she climbed into the opening and began crawling upward to the store.  
  
"'Suck it in, sister,' indeed." she growled. "My ass." Her voice carried to the basement, where Jigen could not resist one last retort. He put his face to the vent and called out,  
  
"That's exactly what I was thinking of, babe." From the vent came an indignant squeal. Lupin pulled Jigen away and smacked him on the head.  
  
"Don't worry baby," he said, "I already hit him for ya."  
  
"Hmph!" Fujiko crawled on from vent to vent, until she found herself looking down onto a familiar diamond-and-platinum corsage. She was directly above the House of Winston's back display room. Little red lights blinked in the darkness, indicating the motion sensors she'd spent the afternoon sabotaging.  
  
"All right, guys, I'm here. Be just a moment." She unfastened the vent cover and slowly pulled it into the ceiling with her. She pulled out the remote device Jigen had given her and turned the dial to the line he'd drawn in black marker. A high-pitched whine filled her ears, and she saw the little red lights blink once, then go out. "Now for a quick test," she said to herself. She reached into her pocket and brought out a small, phosphorescent-green rubber ball, which she bounced carefully off of the room's furthest wall. Fujiko's eyes followed its glow as it bounced past each sensor, without triggering a single one. Satisfied, she swung herself out of the vent and onto the shop floor.  
  
Well, she thought to herself. If I was going to play Lupin for a sucker, now would be the time.  
  
Fujiko sighed. She'd made a halfhearted resolution, after that desperate siege at the German fortress, to be less underhanded with Lupin. After all, when the bombs began to hit, she'd requested that he kill her before the explosions could; and he *had* agreed, even though it broke his heart. Of course, there'd been a couple of slips since then, but she really was trying. And besides, she thought grudgingly, he still had the tape for the voice-recognition lock.  
  
Resigned, she made her way to the basement door, picked the lock, and let the boys in.  
  
"WELcome to the House of WINston," she gushed with a smirk, imitating the salesman from that afternoon. Jigen looked around at the jewelry cases and let out a low whistle.  
  
"Damn. Not bad for a bunch of squashed carbon molecules." Fujiko rolled her eyes.  
  
"No wonder you don't have a girlfriend," she teased. "'Squashed carbon molecules'--how romantic." She waited for a comeback, but Jigen didn't reply. He simply grunted and stalked over to the vault door.  
  
Lupin was already at the doorway, examining the voice-recognition lock's keypad. While watching Winston dial the code to activate the lock earlier that day, he'd had to stay partially concealed by shelves and people. As a result, he'd missed the third number in the sequence. But no matter.  
  
"Hey Fuji-cakes," he called over his shoulder. "You got a compact somewhere in that jumpsuit of yours?" Jigen and Goemon rolled their eyes.  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Women," Jigen said with a snort. Goemon simply shrugged, suppressing a chuckle.  
  
"Lay off her, guys," Lupin said. "We're lucky she has it...and that I'm a genius. Lemme borrow it a second, Fujiko." Now Goemon did chuckle.  
  
"My, Lupin, aren't we becoming vain in our old age?"  
  
"My oh my, Goemon made a joke," Lupin shot back. "Or at least he tried." Lupin clicked open Fujiko's powder compact and pulled out the brush. He blew a fine layer of powder over the keypad, then brushed off the excess until fingerprints showed up on five of the keys. "Go on, say it."  
  
Goemon sighed. "Fine, 'you're a genius.' Happy?"  
  
"Positively tickled pink. Now let's *really* get this show on the road." All four pulled on black leather gloves and gathered around the door. Lupin dialed the activation code, while Jigen positioned a handheld tape recorder just inches from the speaker. Once again, a thin mechanical voice came over the speakers.  
  
"Please establish identity." Jigen pressed the recorder's play button-- softly, so that the click would not register in the computer.  
  
"Harry Winston," the recorder said.  
  
"Please give the password."  
  
"Diamonds are a girl's best friend." There was a pause, in which nobody so much as breathed, before the computerized voice replied,  
  
"Voice patterns verified. Enter." A collective sigh of relief went through the foursome, drowned out by the metallic clack of the door lock popping open.  
  
They stood for a moment, hands on satisfied hips, and looked at the four black carts arranged neatly in the center of the vaults.  
  
"Well what do you know," Lupin crowed. "Pretty maids all in a row...and right in front! We didn't even need to go looking for them!"  
  
"I gotta hand it to you, Lupin," Jigen said appreciatively, "you can be a major fuck-up, but sometimes you really run a good show."  
  
"I'm pretty sure there was a compliment buried in there somewhere, Jigen, so thank you." Lupin bowed neatly to his cohorts, and then turned to Goemon. "This really is your kinda job, isn't it? Won't you do the honors?"  
  
Goemon nodded and approached the carts. Lupin watched as the samurai sliced their lids open with surgical precision; after the carts were cleaned out, they would be able to replace the lids as though nothing had been disturbed. With any luck, this would delay the discovery of the theft by as much as an hour. Every spare minute helps, Lupin reminded himself when he began to grow impatient. You never know when Pops could show up to slow us down.  
  
Finally the job was done. Lupin rubbed his hands together greedily, and walked over to the second cart--the one with the most secure lid, and therefore the one most likely to contain the Star. He lifted the lid with a flourish of his hand.  
  
"Lady and gentlemen," he sang out, "may I present to you the favorite plaything of Ottoman royalty: the Star of...wha??"  
  
It was empty. They stared, mouths agape, at the red velvet lining, which still bore the diamond's imprint in its folds.  
  
"Oh crap, oh Jeez oh mommy!"  
  
"It is as though it vanished only a moment ago," Goemon marveled.  
  
"Lupin," Jigen growled, "if this is some kinda joke, it ain't funny." He shot Fujiko a dirty look, more out of long habit than anything else.  
  
"Don't you look at me like that, Daisuke Jigen. I had nothing to do with this and you know it!" She turned to the next case and removed the lid. "Empty. Lupin," she said in an uneasy voice, "I really don't like the looks of this. I mean, if these jewels *just* vanished...Lupin?" Lupin remained staring at the space where the Star of the East ought to have been.  
  
"She's right. Whoever did this may still be here," Goemon put in. He and Jigen exchanged glances; the gunman held up two fingers and pointed Fujiko and Goemon toward the back rooms of the vaults. Goemon nodded, and moved silently to investigate, Fujiko in tow. Jigen pulled his Magnum from its holster and walked slowly back into the display salons.  
  
Lupin remained with the empty cases, running his hands distractedly through his thick black hair until it stood on end. What did I miss? What on Earth did I possibly miss, his mind raged at him. He opened a third cart, throwing the lid to the ground in frustration as he found it, too, was empty.  
  
"SonofaBITCH," he roared, ripping the cover off the fourth and final cart. "Damn! Who the hell DID..." He fell silent, a baffled look on his face. The fourth cover dropped unnoticed from his hand, clattering loudly on the vault's cement floor.  
  
The clatter was answered by a volley of gunfire. The reports echoed through the darkened vaults, bringing Jigen's raised voice along with them.  
  
"Holy friggin' crap, Lupin, we've got company!"  
  
Goemon and Fujiko raced from the vaults toward the noise. "Come on, Lupin!" Fujiko shouted as they passed him on their way to the display rooms. Lupin replied, with a distracted wave of his hand,  
  
"Go on, help Jigen, I'll be right there."  
  
"Oh, you are so infuriating!" Fujiko hollered without breaking her stride. She followed Goemon through the vacant second salon. As they reached the doorway to the front of the store, however, Goemon stopped short and she ran into him from behind; the impact knocked the wind out of her.  
  
"GET DOWN!" Jigen's voice came through the doorway, and before she knew what was happening Fujiko found herself on the floor. Goemon lay on top of her, deflecting a spray of bullets with his sword.  
  
"Are you hit?" He asked her, wincing as another bullet ricocheted off Zantetsu's hilt with a bang.  
  
"I-- don't think so. No."  
  
"Good," Goemon replied. "Start crawling. Stay behind the counters. I'll follow you, and cover you as best I can." She obeyed, kneeling occasionally to fire a shot over the counters in response to the frequent gunfire. She heard a strangled cry, followed by a string of curses, and knew one of her shots had hit home.  
  
"Take that, you bastards!"  
  
They found Jigen tucked behind one of the register counters, reloading his gun. "Check out our new buddies," he said, nodding his head in the direction of the latest shots. Fujiko peered around the corner of the counter and saw four men in black, guns raised. One of them clutched at his right side--the one she'd hit a moment before. Another cradled a grey velvet bag in the crook of his left arm.  
  
"The diamonds!" Fujiko gasped. The men fired at her voice, taking chunks of wood and glass out of the counter. So much for Lupin's minimal-damage break- in, she thought.  
  
"Yeah," Jigen said over the gunfire. "Guess this wasn't an original idea."  
  
"We've got to stop them!"  
  
"Got any idea how we might do that?"  
  
"I'm thinking, I'm thinking!" One of the men heard her, and cackled.  
  
"Better think fast, gorgeous!" Jigen, Goemon, and Fujiko put their heads around the corner just in time to see the man holding the diamonds walk to the door, smash the lock--and trigger the alarm.  
  
"Shit!" Jigen shouted. "That's dirty pool, you sons of bitches!" He stood and aimed his gun at their retreating forms.  
  
"Aw," came a voice from the doorway. "Now you've really hurt our feelings." The man at the door fired twice, and Jigen staggered backwards. He sank against the wall with a groan, leaving a thin streak of blood behind on the paint.  
  
"Jigen!" Goemon and Fujiko shouted at once, rushing to catch the gunman as he fell.  
  
"This is a friggin' fiasco, this job," he growled as they reached his side. "S'ok," he gasped when he saw Goemon's concerned look. "It's only the shoulder...aah! *Right* shoulder! Shit! Sorry, guys." Goemon shifted Jigen's position and opened his jacket, revealing two splotches of deep red spreading across his chest.  
  
"It is not fatal," he said gravely. "The bullets seem to have gone straight through. But that alarm gives us five minutes. You've got to get up, Jigen. Can you?"  
  
"Yeah," Jigen groaned, as sweat began to bead on his forehead.  
  
"Fujiko, help him walk." She took Jigen's left elbow and hooked it over her neck, supporting the lanky gunman as they made their way into the basement. Goemon opened the door into the access tunnels, and began replacing the lock.  
  
"Goemon!" Fujiko gasped in sudden realization. "Where's Lupin?"  
  
"Oh, no!" Goemon said, looking around quickly. "He must still be in the back! Go--get Jigen to the emergency car. I'll be along with Lupin shortly."  
  
The samurai raced back through the basement, up the stairs, and into the back room, while the alarms rang discordantly in his ears. Three minutes left now, he thought, if that. He found Lupin still standing, shoulders hunched, over the fourth cart.  
  
"Lupin," he shouted. "Don't be a fool! We have no time to mourn these diamonds...we must transcend their loss."  
  
"Goemon," Lupin replied softly. "Look." The samurai shook his head. The boy has finally lost his wits, he thought, willing to risk capture over a few empty jewel cases. He walked over to his old friend and put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Lupin," he said gently. "This heist is over, it fell through. Jigen has been wounded, and we have only two minutes to meet them at the emergency car. We must..." Lupin cut him off.  
  
"Goemon, look," he repeated, pointing downward at the cart in front of them. Goemon followed Lupin's finger and gasped. "We're not the only ones who got royally screwed on this caper."  
  
The case had been hollowed out, its drawers removed, leaving a large open space within. A large burlap sack was bundled awkwardly into the space. Goemon had gasped when he'd realized that the bundle was actually an unconscious young woman, bruised, bound and gagged.  
  
"We can't just leave her here, Goemon! She'll be arrested, and besides, she's injured!"  
  
"If we *stay* here, Lupin, we'll all be arrested! We have no time!"  
  
"We've got to bring her with us."  
  
Goemon had no desire to waste their dwindling time voicing his concerns. He pulled out Zantetsu--noting with discomfort that the Shadow of Death had begun to creep up from the hilt--and sliced the side off the cart. Lupin gathered the unconscious girl into his arms, burlap and all, and gave Goemon a look of gratitude.  
  
"Let's blow this popstand, then," he said. The two men bolted downstairs into the darkness of the sewers, as the sound of sirens grew louder behind them.  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
Eight blocks away, Fujiko Mine was pacing back and forth in the sewers, willing herself not to panic. Far above her, parked on a mostly-deserted side street, sat the soft-top Cadillac Lupin had chosen as a second getaway car. She hated to admit it, but she feared the worst; the five-minute police response time had just passed, with no sign of Lupin or Goemon.  
  
"Damn you, Lupin! What a time to snap," she said harshly. Ordinarily, under such circumstances, she would have climbed up to the car and driven away; if they hadn't shown up on time, that would have been their problem. As she was fuming, however, a groan from the floor reminded her of why she couldn't bail, and instantly made her regret her harsh words.  
  
She looked down to where Jigen had propped himself up against a dry spot on the wall. Blood had soaked all the way through both his shirt and his coat; it dripped down his sleeve and onto the Magnum still clutched in his right hand. She knelt beside him and lifted the fedora from his head. His face had gone white, and his whole body shook almost imperceptibly. He was going, she realized, into shock--which was bad; and he had blacked out-- which was worse, because she was not strong enough to lift him out of the sewers. And anyhow, the car had been parked over the manhole; she'd moved it in order to get him out of the sewers, but now she could not carry him that far. She needed Lupin and Goemon's help--and she didn't think it was on its way.  
  
"Jigen," she murmured insistently. "Jigen, you've got to wake up. Can you hear me, Daisuke?" He was non-responsive, and she let out a bitter curse. Despite all the barbs they exchanged, she really was somewhat fond of the dour gunman. She loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar, then brushed his long hair back from his face. It was an awkward gesture for Fujiko--tenderness was not her strong suit. But it worked.  
  
Jigen's eyes fluttered open briefly. He felt his brain fighting its way through a heavy, dark fog, and it was a minute before he could reply.  
  
"Fujiko," he croaked, wincing at the effort of speech. "Where's that lunkhead?"  
  
"Jigen!" She smiled. "I don't know what happened to Lupin and Goemon. They never...they're not here yet. But Jigen, I've got to get you out to the car, and you've got to help me. I can get you up this ladder, if you can grab on to the rungs as we go." He nodded weakly, and let her hook his left arm over her shoulder once again. They braced themselves against the wall.  
  
"Okay," Fujiko said. "On the count of three, push yourself up with your legs. One," Jigen winced. "Two." She felt his grip tighten. "Three!" With a roar, Jigen pushed himself to a standing position, leaning heavily against her.  
  
"This is ridiculous," he panted. "Only shot in the fucking shoulder...must be getting old."  
  
"You've lost a lot of blood, Jigen. It's no minor flesh wound." She settled the fedora back on his head.  
  
"Fujiko, I'm gonna take back those rotten things I've said about you." The gunman smirked under his hat brim. "Most of 'em, anyway."  
  
"It's a lucky thing you're already injured," she said, "or I would have socked you for that one." Jigen managed a weak grin.  
  
"Friggin' Lupin," he muttered as he began reaching for the ladder. "Maybe he and Goemon could only make it to the closer car...we could--shit!" Gripping the rungs sent fresh waves of pain knifing through his torso, and he fell back against Fujiko.  
  
"Maybe you should just sit back down...I'll go get help..." Jigen waved her off.  
  
"Help? From who? Forget it. Let's just do this..." he gritted his teeth and grabbed hold of the rungs again. And promptly saw the world go black and red around him. Pain roared in his ears, until it was replaced by silence. It was all Fujiko could do to catch him before his head struck the concrete floor.  
  
"Oh, boy," she sighed. "I think we really are in for it, this time."  
  
The sound of feet splashing in the muck echoed through the darkened tunnels. Fujiko flattened herself against the wall, pistol raised, and held her breath. It could be the police or Zenigata just as easily as...  
  
"Oh Jeez oh crap, there are *rats* down here!"  
  
"Lupin!" Relieved, Fujiko dropped the pistol to her side.  
  
"Fuji-cakes! You waited for us!" Lupin called back softly. "Aw, thanks sweetheart!" Lupin and Goemon rounded the corner and threw themselves, panting, against the wall next to her. The beam of her flashlight settled on Lupin, and the burlap sack bundled in his arms.  
  
"What on earth..." Fujiko said with a gasp. "Did you just steal the rest of the store? What is that?" She pulled back a corner of the burlap. "Hey!" Fujiko squealed. "Who the hell is *she*?"  
  
"Shh!" Lupin put a finger to her lips. "I dunno, but I figure we probably wanna find out before the cops do. I'll explain it all later," he whispered. Goemon poked his head back around toward the tunnels, to see that they weren't followed. All three breathed a little easier after a moment passed in perfect quiet.  
  
"Excellent," Goemon said, breaking the silence. "They've probably staked out our other car." He turned to Fujiko. "Why are you still down here? Have they arrived at this car as well?" She pointed her flashlight at the floor near the ladder, where the beam landed on Jigen's crumpled form.  
  
"Holy crap," Lupin said under his breath. He handed the unconscious girl over to Goemon, and knelt down beside Jigen. "Aw hell, buddy, I'm sorry. Aw, Jeez." Goemon, who was at the top of the ladder with the girl over his shoulder, peered out of the manhole.  
  
"Lupin, Fujiko," he called out. "There are new sirens in the distance. I think we had better keep moving." Goemon finished climbing out of the sewers and opened the car. He pulled the burlap sack off the girl and set her gently in the back, her head leaning against the window. He took his seat beside her and waited, pressing the end of his robe against her wounded forehead to stop the bleeding.  
  
Fujiko raced up the ladder and sat at the top, waiting for Lupin to maneuver Jigen up the rungs. When he reached her, she grasped Jigen under the arms and hoisted him gently upward, while Lupin gave him a final push from below. All three tumbled clumsily into the street; Fujiko stood and dusted herself off, while Lupin picked Jigen up and carried him to the car. He settled Jigen in the front passenger seat and tilted the seat back, then squeezed into the back with Goemon and the girl. Fujiko hopped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. Lupin sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Hang a left at the next light, Fuji-cakes," he said. "Let's head for the hills."  
  
**************************************************************************** *********  
  
Rodeo Drive was a snarl of lights, sirens, and squad cars. A small army of policemen and detectives filled the display salons and vault at Harry Winston, taking notes and fingerprints and pictures. They pointed at the bullet holes in the front room, at the disabled motion sensors, at the empty jewel cases, and drew all the wrong conclusions.  
  
Inspector Zenigata stood in the vault, oblivious to the flashbulbs and raised voices around him. He'd seen the disabled motion sensors, but he didn't bother to tell the lieutenant in charge that the bugs were a Lupin specialty. He'd seen the smashed front lock, and known that Lupin didn't have the stones. But now Zenigata stood quietly, looking at the demolished fourth jewel case. Lupin might not have the Star of the East, but he had something else. Someone else, to be precise. Good, thought the Inspector, rubbing his hands together. She's in.  
  
A piece of paper flapping underneath one of the carts caught his eye. He picked it up and unfolded it, to find familiar handwriting. Scrawled in Japanese on a receipt for a $50,000 tennis bracelet was the following:  
  
Dear old Pops: Sorry I didn't tell you about this one in advance, but I figure you'll get wind of it somehow. Doesn't matter, though... For once I'm just as empty-handed as you, Think you'll find the diamonds before I do? --Lupin III.  
  
"Damn you, Lupin," Zenigata growled as he pocketed the note, but he was smiling. 


	5. Chapter 5: Somewhere They Can't Find Me

Disclaimer: Lupin III and all its characters belong to Monkey Punch and probably Pioneer...at any rate, not to me. Alex is all mine, however, so ask real nice before you borrow her.  
  
*Author's note: yeah yeah, I know, this one took forever. summer vacations-- they happen, and sometimes they don't have computers. once again, thanks to all the uber-encouraging reviewers out there, especially musetta-person (edward says ooh la la!)...glad you're all enjoying it. Now that Lupin's not on Adult Swim anymore, this is the only way I get my fix.  
  
Chapter 5: Somewhere They Can't Find Me  
  
"But I've got to creep down the alleyway/ Fly down the highway/ Before they come to catch me I'll be gone/ Somewhere/ They can't find me..."  
--Simon and Garfunkel, "Somewhere They Can't Find Me"  
  
Before any of her other senses returned, Alex Rhodes could smell the ocean. Smelled it--noticeable, but not too heavy--then tasted it, then tasted blood on her tongue. After that, awareness came to her in waves: first she felt an ache; next, she felt the limb from which that ache came; last, she felt the cushions on which her limbs rested. Body, bed, room, and then she was awake.  
  
Jesus, she thought, wincing as she brought a hand up to her temple. Did they really have to be that rough?  
  
With consciousness came memory, disorientation, and anxiety all at once. She knew where she *ought* to be--or at any rate, who she ought to be *with*--but had it worked? She braced herself for the shock of daylight and opened her eyes.  
  
When her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a long, screened-in porch that someone had outfitted as a bedroom. Out of long habit she scanned the room critically, getting a sense of its dimensions, looking for obstacles and escapes. Two doors, she noted. One, presumably, led to other rooms, while the other opened out onto a vast expanse of hill and brush--at the far horizon of which she could just barely discern the ocean. High up, she thought, very high elevation indeed, for that smell to carry. Judging from the sunlight spilling in through the curtained screens, she figured it was early in the afternoon, most likely one or two o' clock.  
  
Turning her attention to the room itself, she discerned the black jacket she'd worn to the House of Winston, neatly folded over the back of a wicker chair. A small chest of drawers stood against the opposite wall; and an old- fashioned oval mirror hung on the wall above it. Just beside her bed stood a wicker night table, topped by a lamp and--praises be!--a glass of water.  
  
Alex sat up with a groan and rested her arms on her knees, letting her head swim until it cleared. She reached a shaky hand out to the glass and gulped down the water, which seemed to pound in her ears. Ugh. When people got knocked out in the movies, she mused, they woke up with someone holding a warm cloth to their heads. They got to ask, "where am I?" and get a sympathetic grin in return. Alex scowled. So much for Hollywood.  
  
Her head a little steadier after the water, Alex hoisted herself up off the bed and walked over to the mirror.  
  
"Yikes!" She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but then she hadn't thought she'd look so awful. The bruise over her right temple was the size of a baseball, blotched with yellow in some places and green in others. Her upper lip was cut and swollen, and someone had carefully bandaged a savage cut just above her left eyebrow. She began to brush her blonde hair over the bruise, but soon gave up. It was too large to hide, and anyhow, her damaged appearance could only work to her benefit, if she was where she thought she was.  
  
Voices drifted in from the next room; one, a woman's, was honey-smooth and resonant. The other was high and nasal; judging from its languid tone, it belonged to a very confident young man. It was when this latter voice uttered the name "Fujiko" that Alex knew all had gone according to plan. She took her jacket from the chair and pulled it gingerly over her shoulders, trying not to yelp at the little twinges that shot through her torso from the movement. She looked around and found her shoes, tucked under the chest of drawers. She padded soundlessly to the door, slipped the shoes on, pressed her ear to the door, and began listening.  
  
**************************************************************************** *  
  
"Damn it," Fujiko Mine spat, throwing a crumpled newspaper to the floor. "I mean, it's just not fair! Those should be OUR diamonds, and this should be OUR publicity!"  
  
Lupin III picked up the discarded front page and looked over the headlines that were presently upsetting his sometime-partner.  
  
DARING JEWEL HEIST FOILED Gems Returned To Grateful Jeweler  
  
Beverly Hills, CA-- Hollywood's glitterati breathed a sigh of relief today, after police recovered scores of gems stolen last night from the Harry Winston Salon on Rodeo Drive. Among the recovered treasures was the famous Star of the East, which was scheduled to be sold at an undisclosed price this morning. The sale has been postponed until investigations are completed, but as of this printing all of Harry Winston's inventory was present and accounted for.  
  
The robbery occurred shortly after midnight, the thieves apparently having circumvented Winston's elaborate motion-sensor security system in order to obtain access. Police were alerted when one of the thieves, presumably inadvertently, activated the alarm system while leaving the premises.  
  
The daring nature of the crime, along with the presence of Interpol officials at the crime scene, has led many to ask whether this might not be the work of internationally-known jewel thief Arsene Lupin III, an allegation which Interpol's own Inspector Zenigata strongly denies.  
  
"Mark my words, this isn't Lupin's doing," the inspector told the Times. "Looks to us like these guys beat him to the punch. But we've got the jewels, and soon we'll have our men."...  
  
With a roar, Lupin crumpled the paper back up and threw it into the corner.  
  
"Damn is right, Fuji-cakes," he moaned. "Pops is having a field day with that stupid note I left him!"  
  
"Note?"  
  
"Yeah...I left him the usual, you know: 'hey Pops, Lupin was here, betcha I find the diamonds first,' so on and so on. Damn! I knew being a cocky bastard was going to catch up with me someday." He flopped face-down onto the sofa, burying his face in the cushions.  
  
"Poor Lupin," Fujiko cooed sympathetically, sitting down beside him. Lupin sighed into the cushions.  
  
"Not to mention that I got my best friend a couple of totally unneccessary new scars. Once again, a personal disappointment to top off a professional failure." He raised himself up on one elbow and rested his chin on his hand. "The only good thing I can see is, at least those bastards didn't get away with the diamonds."  
  
"That's another thing I don't get," Fujiko put in. "If these guys were good enough to get the diamonds before we did, how is it they were sloppy enough to get caught?"  
  
"Well, stranger things have happened," Lupin reasoned. "Maybe old Pops just got lucky. He can be a pretty decent detective, you know--when he's not dealing with me." Fujiko cast a doubtful look at him. "Besides, baby doll, they didn't actually get *caught*--they just dropped the diamonds."  
  
"That doesn't really make it any less weird, Lupin," Fujiko retorted. "That was a tough break in! You can bet *I* damn well wouldn't have let the Star out of my hands just like that!"  
  
"Neither would I," Lupin smirked, "unless I was letting it fall into *your* lovely hands." Fujiko scowled. "But suppose for a second, Fuji-cakes, that these guys needed cash. Suppose they had a buyer for the Star of the East all lined up already."  
  
"Instead of holding on to it and taking bids like we would?"  
  
"Right. Like I said, let's say they needed cash too badly to bargain. So they go in real carefully--so carefully that even *we* don't notice they've been there until it's too late--what does all that suggest to you?"  
  
"They were buying themselves the time to make the sale," Goemon replied, as he walked into the room. "Just like we were buying ourselves time to leave the country." He set a tray of bandages and foul-smelling Japanese herbs on a side table and sat down in an armchair across from Lupin and Fujiko.  
  
"Hiya Goemon," Lupin said. "You took the words right outta my mouth." Goemon bowed slightly. "So they were buying time, and they would have made it, too. But when they ran into us, they had to make enough noise to get us off their tails. Noise equals police equals discovery equals publicity-- big, bad publicity. Suddenly it's too hot to move the diamonds, AND you've got identification and capture to worry about. It's fish or cut bait, so our strapped-for-cash competitors drop the excess baggage and bolt."  
  
"Identification?" Fujiko looked puzzled. "What, you're saying we would just stroll over to the police? 'By the by, while we were trying to steal the diamonds, we saw the guys who really did it?'" Lupin shook his head.  
  
"Nope. I'm just saying I wasn't the only one who left a little calling-card behind."  
  
In the next room, her ear still against the door, Alex deduced where Lupin's theory was headed and decided she needed to make her entrance. She opened the door halfway and slipped out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her. She tiptoed across the hallway and stopped at the doorway to the living room, one hand resting on the frame. Okay baby, she thought. It's showtime.  
  
"What on earth are you talking about, 'calling-card'?" Fujiko asked. "You mean--" her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the blonde woman standing in the doorway.  
  
"I have the feeling," the woman said timidly, "he's talking about me."  
  
At the sound of her voice, Goemon jumped and turned around in his chair. While treating Jigen's wounds, he had nearly forgotten about the girl in the diamond cart. Lupin raised himself to a sitting position and leaned against the back of the couch, hands folded behind his head.  
  
"You betcha, Miss--er--" he stopped. "Sorry, I forgot; we haven't really been introduced." He stood, smoothed his tie, and walked over to the doorway, offering a handshake. "Lupin the third. These here are Goemon Ishikawa and Fujiko Mine, my associates. And you are?"  
  
"Pleased to meet you," she said, speaking softly as a concession to her pounding head. "I'm Alex Rhodes."  
  
"Pleasure's all ours, Miss Rhodes. Anyway," Lupin continued, scarcely missing a beat. "You're right, I *was* just talking about you." He turned to Fujiko and Goemon. "The thing is, while you guys were having your little shootout, I was taking a good look at the last diamond cart--and at Miss Rhodes, who was in it." Fujiko made a small noise of disdain. "What was that, Fuji-cakes?"  
  
"Never mind," she said, rolling her eyes. "Hopeless." Lupin winked at her and continued.  
  
"You see, when I looked at the other carts, I saw that their lids had been cut at the lock once already--sorry you wasted all that energy cutting 'em open, Goemon. But the lock on the fourth cart hadn't been broken before. Either the other guys had no interest in its contents, or the lock was a completely new one substituted for the original. Based on the cart's contents, I figured the latter. Moreover, those boxes are pretty airtight, and she was pretty banged up. I'm guessing Miss Rhodes here wasn't supposed to come out of that cart alive."  
  
At this, the Miss Rhodes in question gave an involuntary little gasp. Asphyxiation was *not* part of the plan. Those bruises *were* a bit excessive, she thought. A resurgence in her headache wiped her mind clean for a moment, and she leaned more heavily against the doorway.  
  
"For Buddha's sake, Lupin!" Goemon, who'd been watching Alex closely, jumped out of his chair in indignation. "The girl is quite obviously still in some pain, and has suffered trauma to the head. You might at least allow her to sit, before you begin theorizing about attempts on her life." Lupin's face fell suddenly, and he reddened.  
  
"Aw, geez Goemon...Miss Rhodes, I'm sorry..."  
  
"Please forgive my--associate's--insensitivity. He is apt to forget his rather considerable reputation as a gentleman." Goemon walked over and took Alex's arm, leading her to the sofa. She curled her legs gingerly beneath her, and propped one elbow on the armrest. Goemon stood beside her, lifting the bandage over her eyebrow and turning her head to examine the bruise on her temple.  
  
"How do you feel, Miss Rhodes? Are you experiencing any dizziness?"  
  
"Not anymore," she told the samurai. "When I first sat up, there was some."  
  
"No nausea?" She shook her head no. "And your vision?"  
  
"Clear," she replied, seeing where he was headed. "I've had concussions before, and this isn't one, if that's what you're wondering."  
  
"Hmm. Actually, I had more or less ruled out concussion beforehand. But it never hurts to ask."  
  
"Ruled out beforehand? What do you mean?" Goemon gave the still-shamefaced Lupin a suggestive look, then excused himself to the kitchen. The master thief came over and sat across from Alex.  
  
"Well, I don't know how long you were out before I found you," Lupin said, "but it's three in the afternoon now...you've been unconscious for at least twelve hours." Alex nodded.  
  
"Yeah, I, uh, knew that. Thing is, Miss Rhodes...unconscious that long from a few bruises? And now, you wake up without concussion symptoms? It just doesn't look quite right. Those knocks to the head hurt, I'm sure, but our guess is they didn't knock you out. You were drugged." Alex stared hard at the floor, searching her foggy memories of the previous night for answers.  
  
"Drugged," she said flatly. "My god." Her mind drifted back, back to the evening before-- to the diner. They'd stopped en route to Beverly Hills, and she'd left for a few minutes--ostensibly to the bathroom, but really to make a phone call.  
  
(This coffee is awful, she'd said upon returning. Tastes like the cream's turned sour. Eh, he'd replied, what do you expect in a dive like this? Long as there's nothing crawling in it, right?)  
  
She sighed and rubbed her forehead in weary frustration. "The coffee." Fujiko looked at Alex with some concern.  
  
"Not to pry or anything, but," Fujiko paused, "but how did this happen? Who were those guys?" Alex smiled sourly.  
  
"Well, something tells me I'm no longer part of 'those guys.' But from what I overheard--and sorry to eavesdrop, by the way--sounds like Mr. Lupin already has most of it worked out." She smiled What I can't figure is where you guys fit in...you mean to say that--just by coincidence--two teams decided to hit the same store on the same night, and you just ran into one another?"  
  
"Sort of," Lupin said. "Only it's not so much of a coincidence that two teams of thieves would go for a score like..."  
  
"Like the Star of the East. Fair enough...but I didn't realize its sale had become common knowledge." She smiled gratefully at Goemon as he returned from the kitchen, bearing a steaming mug of tea.  
  
"It wasn't. But then," Lupin added smirkingly, "we're not common thieves." Alex laughed.  
  
"Touche," she conceded. "Well, we were. And you were dead on, Mr. Lupin. We were in it for the cash; I'm not at all surprised they dropped the stones when things got too hot. None of us had--or wanted-- anything this big on our records." She paused thoughtfully. "Did you happen, at Winston, to run into a particularly all-American type--tall, blond, blandly unpleasant?" Fujiko gasped; the man who'd shot Jigen had been a blond, beefy type.  
  
"I'll take that gasp as a yes. He goes by the name Roger Blue. I suppose you would call him the ringleader. He called the rest of us in as out-of- towners--said he wanted people who weren't locally connected. But he was real suspicious of all of us anyhow. I know thieves thrive on paranoia, but this was just unprofessional and irritating." She shrugged. "Guess he decided I was up to no good. We got to Winston and got past the motion sensors--"  
  
"How'd you manage that, by the way?"  
  
"Screwing with their frequencies as we walked past them," she said. Lupin chuckled; poor Jigen, he would be so disappointed to find his efforts were wasted. "Anyway, once we were in the back, Roger stopped me. 'Nuh-uh,' he said, 'not you.' He turned to the other guys. 'The split goes four ways now,' he said. 'Take her down.' And," she said, her breath shuddering, "they did. That's all I remember."  
  
"I'd say that's about all I'd *want* to remember of a night like that," Lupin said, reaching across to pat her knee reassuringly. "Well, what would you say to some lunch, Miss Rhodes? Or perhaps, given your ordeal, would a drink be in order? I'd suggest rest, but you probably got all the sleep you could possibly want."  
  
"For now, I'm quite satisfied with Goemon's excellent tea, thanks. But actually," she added after a hesitant pause, "a bath would be wonderful."  
  
"I think that can be arranged," Lupin said eagerly--a little too eagerly, it seemed, for Fujiko quickly stepped in.  
  
"I'll show you to the bathroom, Alex," Fujiko said, beginning to lead her into the hall. "Oh! I almost forgot! The bathtub is attached to the second bedroom. We're using that one as a temporary infirmary," she explained. "Goemon? How's our patient?"  
  
"He is sleeping quite soundly. You will not disturb him." Patient? Alex noted the tray of bandages on the side table but said nothing, and followed Fujiko obediently to the bedroom.  
  
The room was considerably larger than the sunroom where she'd awakened, but just as simply furnished. Shades had been drawn, giving the room a muted amber cast and the overall feel of an invalid's room. But the bearded man lying asleep in the bed wasn't sick; as she walked past, Alex could see the heavy bandages over his right shoulder, stained with blood in two distinct places. Gunshot wounds, she thought, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. She turned to Fujiko.  
  
"Roger did that, didn't he?" The other woman, eyeing Alex coldly, nodded once. Alex dropped her head and whispered, "the bastard." There seemed to be nothing more to say; Alex thanked Fujiko and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She doesn't much like me, does she, Alex thought.  
  
She sat down on the edge of the tub while it filled with water and the mirrors fogged with steam. As much as she hated to admit it, things had spun a bit beyond her control; she wasn't the least bit comfortable with having been drugged, even if it had come out all right in the end. But then, there was nobody she could blame for it. Latching on to Roger Blue had been her idea in the first place, because all her reconnaissance work had shown her a desperate thief who would attempt to steal the Star, come hell or high water. She hadn't found out about the paranoia or the hair- trigger temper until later, after she'd already signed on for the job.  
  
Alex found a small vial of bath bubbles on the countertop and added a capful to the water. When a layer of foam bubbles covered the surface, she undressed and slid into the tub. She sighed, and sank further beneath the bubbles. The injured man in the next room; that bothered her also. If he were very seriously hurt thanks to *her* associates, it would be difficult to gain the confidence of the group--provided her guilt didn't get the better of her first, and persuade her to bail. Process of elimination told her who the injured man was, though, and she'd heard he was one hell of a tough cookie. She hoped the rumors were true.  
  
**************************************************************************** ****  
  
Leaving Alex to herself in the bathroom, Fujiko swept back into the living room like an indignant whirlwind.  
  
"Don't you think we're being just a *bit* careless, Lupin?" Lupin looked up at her from the sofa, where he'd resumed his former lounging position, and shook his head.  
  
"Only as careless as we're obliged to be, Fuji-cakes." Fujiko's jaw dropped in a melodramatic expression of shock.  
  
"Obliged? Since when are we obliged to anything?"  
  
"Since we got her out of Harry Winston in the first place. What were we gonna do? Leave her unconscious at the curbside somewhere along the way? Abandoning a damsel in distress--that ain't my style, babe."  
  
"Hmph! With emphasis on the 'damsel' part, I suppose." Lupin sat up, an amused look on his face.  
  
"Why, Fujiko Mine, I'll be damned. You're jealous!" He laughed and gave the armrest a slap. "Well, well, well!"  
  
"Oh grow up," she retorted, stamping one high-heel-clad foot. "I'm no such thing. I just think it's foolish to compromise our security because you've got a thing for blondes with bruises!"  
  
"Hey," Lupin said, an edge of anger creeping into his voice, "I told you, that's got nothing to do with it. I had a perfectly good reason for bringing her with." Lupin got up and stood face to face with the fuming Fujiko. "Now what's this really all about?"  
  
"Children, children," Goemon interceded, stepping between the two. "Let us approach this problem calmly." Lupin and Fujiko, still scowling at one another, sat down on opposite sides of the coffee table.  
  
"Fine, Goemon," Fujiko sulked. "Then make him explain what's going on, and why she's here." Goemon nodded to Lupin, who gave an exasperated sigh.  
  
"She's here because when I found her, I didn't know how she fit in, and she wasn't exactly in any shape to tell me. It didn't seem right to leave her for the police, since it looked like she'd just been the victim of a bad double-cross. I would have done it for anyone," he added, "damsel or no. Call it professional courtesy." Fujiko sighed.  
  
"All right. I suppose I believe you. But why not leave her at a hospital or something? She's not really our problem."  
  
"That had occurred to me, I admit. But there was Jigen to think about; I didn't want to waste any time. And then, Miss Mine, it occurred to me that if she was working with the bad guys, she might know where they were moving the stones. And since she doesn't seem to be on the friendliest terms with them anymore, she might even be willing to let us in on it."  
  
"Of course it doesn't matter now," Fujiko put in sadly, "since they pretty much just handed them back to Zenigata."  
  
"Fine, so that idea didn't pan out. Doesn't mean it was a bad idea." Lupin looked to Goemon, who gave an absentminded nod of agreement while looking contemplatively in the direction of the bedroom door. "All right. What are you looking so thoughtful about, Goemon?"  
  
"The problem still remains of what is to become of her now," he said. "Her former partners have undoubtedly figured out by now that she is alive; none of the newspapers have mentioned a body at the scene. She could identify them--she has become a walking threat."  
  
"You're thinking they might come after her?" Lupin asked.  
  
"Perhaps. If she resurfaces, that is." He cast a meaningful glance at Lupin. "There are some familiar calluses on her hands; unless I'm very much mistaken, she is an able markswoman."  
  
"I think I'm beginning to catch your drift, Goemon," came the thief's reply, "but we've already got a gunman, remember?" Lupin gestured with his thumb toward the bedroom. "He's just takin' a bit of a nap."  
  
"When he wakes up from that nap, I am afraid he'll find that his right arm is rather out of commission--" Fujiko and Lupin jumped up simultaneously to meet the samurai's gaze, and began speaking all at once.  
  
"Not--" Lupin began, his voice squeaking a bit, "not permanently, right?"  
  
"Oh, Goemon!" Fujiko said in dismay. "You told me it wasn't that bad!" The samurai held out his hands in a pacifying gesture.  
  
"He will not be permanently debilitated," Goemon continued, "but if he is ever to regain full strength and flexibility in his right arm, it would be best for him to rest it." Lupin sat back down, rubbing his forehead.  
  
*************************************************************************  
  
Alex drained the bathtub and pulled her clothes back on, trying to make the rumpled shirt a bit more presentable. Once again, she found herself barefoot: she'd set her shoes down in the bedroom in order to take the bath towels from Fujiko. Wrapping her damp hair in a towel, she padded out into the bedroom and retrieved the shoes. Once again, voices from the living room reached her ears; but this time, hearing Fujiko's voice rise and Lupin's grow shrill, she opted to take her time in the bathroom and wait for the fireworks to die down.  
  
As she padded softly back to the bathroom, Alex stopped and looked again toward the injured man. Curiosity got the better of her, and forgetting about her shoes for the moment, she went over to the bed. In the dim light, she could discern the chiseled features she'd expected: stern brow, sharp nose, lips set in a hard line. The squared-off chin obscured by a somewhat legendary beard.  
  
So this was the infamous Daisuke Jigen; the end-all be-all gunman to people who *really* understood guns. Alex had heard the stories from people in a position to know; how The Legacy, Lupin III, chose for his right-hand man a gangster with a fake name and no history, who could take out an entire helicopter in two shots.  
  
He's younger than I'd expected, she thought.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Lupin sat turning Goemon's less-than-subtle suggestion over in his mind. Jigen would never stand for it, he was sure. And yet Lupin couldn't, in good conscience, let the gunman go back to work if it meant risking further injury. He looked at his comrades, both of whom were watching for his reaction. God, he hated these executive decisions.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Jigen's senses began to tingle, reactions fighting their way through his clouded brain.  
  
(Something wrong? No. Maybe. Something different. Wake up.)  
  
He tensed, triggering a tightness in his right side. It did not hurt, but he sensed that it would begin to hurt before long.  
  
("...dirty pool, you sons of bitches!" Gunshots.)  
  
He opened his eyes. The surroundings were all familiar; he was in the cabin Lupin had picked for a rendezvous point. The "something different" he'd sensed was a girl, and she had been sitting beside his bed. Now she gasped, and leapt back in surprise, the towel falling from her head.  
  
Jigen looked her over; a small, blonde woman with damp hair, a nasty bruise, and a gash in her forehead. She stood back, a startled look still on her face. It was, he noted reflexively, a pretty face, bruises notwithstanding. He allowed himself to relax. A pretty face at Lupin's rendezvous point? Hardly likely to be a threat. In fact, she was looking at him like a deer staring at headlights. He blinked a few times, slowly, and managed a smile. The girl hesitantly moved back to his side, smiling back.  
  
"Hello," she said shyly, with a small wave of her hand. The gunman raised an eyebrow by way of greeting. "Er...," she stuttered, somewhat at a loss. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Like I've been shot," Jigen croaked. He surveyed her thoughtfully for a moment. "How 'bout you?"  
  
"Me? I--I'm fine...?" Alex was puzzled. Why should a man with two bullets in him ask how *she* was doing?  
  
"Looks like someone really went to work on that forehead of yours." Her hand flew to the gash; she had forgotten to bandage it again, after her bath.  
  
"Oh," she laughed, "that. It's not as bad as it looks."  
  
"Mm-hm," Jigen replied. "Good thing." He seemed so calm, Alex thought; unconcerned about the stranger in his room, unconcerned about his injuries. Perhaps he had a fever--his wounds could have become infected. She put a hand to his forehead. It was slightly damp, but not feverish.  
  
"Can I...get you anything?" Alex asked.  
  
"Glass of water would be nice," he replied. "And a cigarette, if you can find it." She poured a glass of water from a carafe on the bedside table, and began to search the drawers for cigarettes. "And your name."  
  
She stopped her rummaging. "Pardon?"  
  
"Your name," he repeated in an amused tone. "I always try to get a girl's name, when I wake up next to her."  
  
"Very funny," she said, closing the drawers. She put the water glass to his lips, and he took a drink. "I suppose I was wondering when you'd ask about that. I'm Alex Rhodes," she said, holding out the glass again. "And I'm very pleased to meet you, Daisuke Jigen." He must have looked surprised, because she continued. "Oh, come now, a bearded man with a gunman's calluses--and injuries--working with Lupin the Third? Who else could you be?"  
  
"Guilty as charged," Jigen chuckled. So much for just some pretty face. "Where did you come from, anyway?"  
  
"Same place you did--Harry Winston."  
  
(The sewers and Fujiko...Lupin rounding the corner, coming out of the dark with a bundle in his arms...)  
  
"Ah, so you were the mystery bundle I saw just before blacking out." Alex nodded. Jigen pointed her toward the jacket hanging on the bedpost. Alex patted its pockets and came up with a single bent cigarette and a lighter. She placed the cigarette gently between his lips and lit it. He took an appreciative drag and exhaled.  
  
"So," he said, gesturing with the smoking end toward her forehead. "Who gave you the souvenirs?"  
  
"Probably the same guy who gave you those," she replied, pointing at his right shoulder.  
  
"Hm," Jigen nodded. "That guy's bad news." They looked at each other and laughed until their respective wounds made them wince. Jigen noticed Alex clutching her side. "Did Goemon get a look at that?"  
  
"Probably. I was still out. It's all bandaged---" The bedroom door opened, and Lupin came in, followed closely by Goemon and a somewhat cross-looking Fujiko.  
  
"Oh, good. I see you two are already getting acquainted," Lupin said. He snatched Jigen's fedora off the dresser and brought it over to the bed, settling it on the gunman's head. "How're the flesh wounds, old man?"  
  
"Not bad. How's that brain damage of yours?" Lupin pulled the hat brim down over Jigen's eyes.  
  
"Nice work, Goemon," he said. "Looks like Jigen's as good as new. 'Cept for that bum arm, of course." Alex caught the offended look that passed over Jigen's features.  
  
"It's nothing," he said. "It'll be fine in a week." Jigen looked up at Goemon. "Right, Goemon?"  
  
"I am afraid," the samurai began, "that it would be unwise to begin using your arm so quickly." The offense on Jigen's face began to look a bit more like horror.  
  
"We were thinking," Fujiko said carefully, "that you should maybe let yourself heal up, this time."  
  
"Ha," Jigen chuckled nervously. "And leave you guys open to any yahoo with a Derringer? You wouldn't wanna try it." He was beginning to see where this was headed, and he didn't like it one bit.  
  
"Well, we thought about that, too," Lupin said. He looked to his compatriots, and then to the girl sitting beside him on the bed. "How's your aim these days, Miss Rhodes?" 


	6. Chapter 6: All Along the Watchtower

Disclaimer: Lupin, Jigen, Goemon, Zenigata, Fujiko....they all belong to other people. But those other people don't need to worry. I'm not making any money.  
  
Author's Note: Yikes, guys. Sorry about the no-updates-forever. Mea culpa, mea culpa....My internet vanished, and I thought it would never return. But it did. So here goes.  
  
Chapter 6: All Along the Watchtower  
  
"No reason to get excited,"/ the thief he kindly spoke./ "There are many here among us/ who feel that Life is but a joke./ But you and I, we've been through that,/ and this is not our fate./ So let us not talk falsely, now,/ the hour's getting late"...  
  
--Bob Dylan, "All Along The Watchtower"  
  
Lupin watched through bleary eyes as the numbers flipped over on his bedside clock. 4:34 a.m. Oh good, he thought, grimacing. Only six hours until breakfast. With a muffled growl, he turned over and buried his face in the pillow. The earlier attempts to reassure Fujiko about Alex and the Winston job had exhausted his reserves of confidence; and now scenes from the night before had been running through his mind for nearly three hours, without a wink of sleep to blot them out.  
  
He saw the empty cases opening up, one after another. He should have called a halt when he saw the first one. He heard the gunshots echoing from the front display room; why hadn't they done a quick sweep of the place before going in? They were stupid, cocky errors. Lesson learned, he supposed. He wouldn't leave himself open to surprises again.  
  
But then...what had happened back there? He could rationalize it all he wanted, but when the red flags had gone up in the Winston vault, he'd frozen. And chivalry aside, where *had* his mind been when he found Alex? Lupin tossed and turned some more, then propped himself up on his elbows, staring into the dark room. He hadn't lied to Fujiko, exactly--he believed everything he'd said about professional courtesy, and about Alex's potential usefulness--but none of those things had been in his brain at the time. He'd brought a random variable into the group based solely on instinct, and that was reckless.  
  
And yet. Reckless though it was, Lupin couldn't quite bring himself to consider it a mistake.  
  
Lupin III never asked himself, even in the tightest of squeezes, what his grandfather would have done in his place. That wasn't his style. But every so often, he knew--even without asking.  
  
"You're damn right, old man," he said to the darkness. "I DO need a drink."  
  
***********************************************************************  
  
Lupin padded barefoot into the kitchen, not bothering to put on the lights. The sparse moonlight seeping in through the blinds lit his way to the liquor cabinet, while his deft fingertips--a true thief's fingertips--told him vodka, vermouth, gin, sour mix, tequila, and lastly, the scotch he was seeking. He reached into the next cupboard for a glass, deliberated for a groggy moment on whether or not to get ice, decided against it, and began to pour.  
  
"What'd I do, Lupin," said a surly voice just behind him, "hit the age limit?" Lupin started violently, spilling scotch onto the counter. He spun around, his hand frantically searching the wall for a light switch. Bright light filled the room.  
  
"Christ, Jigen," Lupin gasped, clutching dramatically at his chest. "You scared the crap outta me."  
  
"Hmph," Jigen snorted. He was draped over one of the kitchen chairs, his busted arm in a sling, the rest of him in a bathrobe. A half-empty scotch glass sat on the table in front of him, but his eyes met Lupin's with a cool, level gaze.  
  
"What, you been lying in wait or something?!" Lupin whispered indignantly. He snatched a towel from the counter and began mopping up the spilled scotch. "What the hell's the matter with you?"  
  
Jigen raised an eyebrow by way of reply.  
  
"What, you mean Alex?"  
  
"So I don't even get a say in this?" Jigen jerked an angry left thumb in the general direction of Alex's room. Lupin rubbed his forehead and picked up his glass. It was nearly empty--most of the scotch had spilled out. He reached behind him for the bottle and resumed pouring.  
  
"Look, Jigen, it's not like that," he said. "You were unconscious. SHE was unconscious, for crying out loud. And don't forget, there was a *slight* time concern, too. Believe me, nobody got consulted."  
  
"Seems like there was plenty of consultation once she woke up, though," Jigen sneered. "Seems like a guy better keep his eyes open around here."  
  
"Not to be crude, Jigen," Lupin hissed, "but what the *fuck* are you talking about?"  
  
"I'm trying to figure out, Lupin," Jigen hissed back, "why the *fuck* you felt the need to go behind my back and cut me out!"  
  
"Cut you out?!" Lupin strained to keep his voice low, figuring that whatever this was turning into, there was no need to get the whole gang involved. "What, you get shot in the head and we didn't notice? What's WITH you, man?"  
  
"What's with me," Jigen said slowly, "is that she shouldn't even be HERE, in the first place." He held up his hand to stop Lupin, who was opening his mouth to protest. "And yet, she's here, and somehow you've decided she'll do just fine in my place. What the HELL did I miss while I was out?"  
  
"Aw lay off, man. It isn't like that, and you know it. Goemon and I were just trying to help out a person in need."  
  
"If that's how you wanna rationalize it," Jigen said, taking a swig from his own glass, "fine. But I couldn't help noticing that this 'person in need' has a great pair of legs." He slammed the glass down, and gazed thoughtfully at it for a moment. When he spoke again, it was in a measured, mocking tone that Lupin recognized; it signalled Jigen at his most dangerous.  
  
"What's the matter, Lupin," he asked, "finally had it with Fujiko? That's just what we need, another woman who can screw us all out of a fortune just because she's scr--"  
  
"Watch it, Jigen," Lupin said warningly. He could feel Jigen backing off, but the bad vibes hadn't died out just yet.  
  
"--fine, then. Let's say it's because she's got 'diplomatic immunity.'" Jigen's voice dripped with contempt. Lupin was shaking with rage.  
  
"That's. Enough. Jigen."  
  
"Harsh your buzz, did I?" Jigen shot back.  
  
"Fuck you," Lupin said, turning away. "And you leave Fujiko out of this." Behind him, Jigen gave a short laugh. "I mean it. Like we've never screwed ourselves out of a fortune withOUT her help? You know there's no three- strike policy here. Someone botches a job, it's in the past."  
  
"Fine. Fair enough." Lupin turned back around to face his long-time friend and partner. Somehow, even without his trademark hat and suit, Jigen cut a commanding figure; Lupin felt himself on his guard despite the bond between them. Jigen, for his part, felt he was staring at a complete stranger; someone who looked the part, but acted in unaccountable ways, made uncharacteristic decisions. Every cell in his body raged against feeling so duped.  
  
For a moment the two men stood silently, each wondering if he needed to size up a new enemy. Finally, Lupin took a deep breath and spoke.  
  
"OK," he said calmly. "Then let's quit beating around the damn bush." He crossed the kitchen floor and sat at the table, opposite the gunman. "Look. When we took Alex out of the Winston vault with us, the thought of taking her on--in ANY capacity--never even crossed my mind. It only occurred to me later, when Goemon told us how bad your injuries were. We gave her a little test-run. She's good, Jigen. Falls somewhere in-between me and you. And as much as I hate to face it, that right arm of yours is gonna be out of commission for a good long while now."  
  
"Yeah," Jigen snapped, "thanks to HER guys!"  
  
"'Her' guys? The ones who beat the living snot out of her and left her trussed up for the cops? Why do I feel like her loyalties just MIGHT have shifted a bit in our favor?"  
  
"Well what the hell were they doing there in the first place, Lupin?"  
  
"Damned if I know, Jigen! This is a competitive business, at any level. Sure, nobody but us has the guts to go after King Tut's mask. But all those lower-profile bank jobs and jewel heists? Hell, I'm surprised we don't bump into the competition more often! It's not like I can post a notice at the grocery store-- 'Attention thieves, Monday's job at Harry Winston is ours...thanks, Lupin & Co.' Maybe I'm enough of a gentleman to leave each thief his own, but I can't vouch for everyone else out there."  
  
Lupin paused in his rant long enough to see if Jigen was softening. He wasn't. Fine, Lupin thought. He wants it all on the table, here goes.  
  
"And because I can't vouch for everyone else, I like my right hand man to have his right hand."  
  
"Oh, screw you," Jigen said coldly, slamming down his glass--and wincing in pain as he did so. "We both know I shoot better left-handed than YOU shoot righty, any day of the week." This wasn't exactly the reaction Lupin had been aiming for.  
  
"You're right," he conceded. "But I'm more comfortable relying on BOTH your hands."  
  
"Just the hands, huh? Figures." Lupin growled low in his throat, his face turning livid.  
  
"Aw, JEEZ," he exploded, forgetting about the sleeping people. "Now what the hell is THAT supposed to mean?!" He leapt up from the table, tearing exasperatedly at his hair. Jigen remained seated, his voice still calm--but no longer dangerous. The gunman simply sounded disappointed.  
  
"You just don't get it, do you, Lupin?"  
  
"Get it?" Lupin replied wearily.  
  
"Look. Clearly you haven't picked up on it, but I'm not just some freak with good aim. I'm a thief too, Lupin, and a damn good one, if I do say so myself. All of us--Fujiko, Goemon, and me--we're ALL good thieves. We're not just a useful rotation of tits, guns and swords, sitting around at your disposal. And I'm not about to let you cut me out of the picture just because I'm temporarily minus one gun."  
  
Lupin sank against the counter, visibly deflated by the accusations leveled against him.  
  
"Aw geez," he sighed, "I know that, man. I know that! And you're not going anywhere, that's for sure" He gave a small, hopeful chuckle. "You're not shaking me off that easy." Jigen's gaze warmed the tiniest bit; no longer steely, but still guarded.  
  
"Just who're you trying to convince, here, Lupin?" Lupin stopped, mouth agape, until Jigen's words registered. Then Lupin's jaw clenched reflexively as his face boiled pink.  
  
"Okay!" He shouted. "All right! So I made a decision in a hurry and I'm only now piecing my logic together. So sue me! Anyway, that doesn't mean it was a bad decision. Christ almighty," he said, flopping down into the kitchen chair, "I'm exhausted from defending myself on this." Lupin leaned back in the chair, one hand flung over his eyes.  
  
After a few seconds of silence, Lupin began to peek between his fingers at his partner. Daisuke Jigen was staring into his empty glass, tapping soundlessly on the rim with two long, callused fingers. But the furious crease in his forehead had smoothed itself out. Crisis averted. Lupin exhaled and dropped his hand to his side. Jigen finished his inaudible rhythm and looked up.  
  
"You think YOU'RE exhausted," he said, pointing to his sling. "Plus, Goemon's painkillers have got me doped up like a Connecticuit housewife. I'm goin' to bed before I pass out." He stood up and shuffled wearily--and a bit drunkenly--to the doorway, where he turned around and switched off the light. In the dark, he gave Lupin a wink and a smirk. "See you in the morning, kid."  
  
Lupin smirked back. It might take a day or two before Jigen admitted it, but somewhere in that bearded head he'd reconciled himself to the new situation. He saluted his partner's retreating shadow with the remaining drops in his glass, and sang out the expected response.  
  
"Only if you live that long, gramps!" 


	7. Chapter 7: Are You Experienced?

author's note. Yeah, I suck. No excuses, just got lazy and uncreative. But here's chapter 7, for the one person who's still readin' (Musetta).  
  
Disclaimer: Since the record industry's undoubtedly out to get me, better clear myself with the Anime industry. I do not own or profit from Lupin III or any of its elements. Man, I don't profit from ANYthing...nobody's fooled by the rocks that I got...I am definitely still Jenny from the Block. Boo.  
  
Chapter 7: Are You Experienced?  
  
"But who in your measly little world / are you trying to prove / you're made out of gold, and you can't be sold?/ So tell me,/ Are you experienced?/ Or have you ever been experienced?/ Well. I have/ Let me prove it to you."  
--The Jimi Hendrix Experience, "Are You Experienced?"  
  
Late-morning sunlight was already slanting through the blinds when shouts and scuffling noises dragged a reluctant Jigen from another cloudy sleep. Instinctual paranoia carried the day, however, and cleared the clouds. In an instant, he'd rolled from the bed to the window, left hand snatching his holster from the chair as he rolled. He ignored the stiffness and pain in his right arm as another shout drifted in through the window--an unfamiliar shout.  
  
Someone here, he thought. How did they find this place?  
  
Jigen nosed the Magnum under the blinds, slowly raising them just enough to see outside. Caught off-guard and injured, he tensed up and fought a moment of panic. Outside, Goemon and a little blonde woman stood squared off across a patch of lightly wooded ground. Jigen swore under his breath, irked at not having thought of it before. Of course, he thought. The new shout belonged to Alex.  
  
Before Jigen could draw another breath, Alex and Goemon were rushing full- tilt at one another, swords raised above their heads. Goemon threw his lean samurai's body into a standard lunge, a single motion that made his sword arc downward at Alex's upraised blade. Instead of meeting his lunge, however, the girl slowed her own charge to a stop and took a single step to the right, bringing her sword around to maintain her balance. Jigen watched Goemon's sword breeze past Alex's with a sharp "whoof," before momentum sent the astonished samurai headlong into the grass.  
  
"All right, damnit, I've seen enough!" Jigen snarled, tearing open the blinds and firing a single shot through the windowpane.  
  
Alex gasped as the bullet screamed past her ear and tore the sword from her hand. Only at this moment of impact, one instant too late, did the sounds of a gun firing and glass breaking register in her ears. As always, her instincts rushed ahead of her brain, threw her to the ground, and rolled her to the cover of a nearby shrub. She drew a gun from the holster on her left ankle and lay in wait, ears primed for any new noise. Goemon--still recovering from his fall--scrambled to her side, waving his arms.  
  
"Jigen," he called out, "cease your firing! I assure you, I am in no danger! We are merely practicing!" The samurai paused, looking down at his fighting partner with clear respect. "Fortunately for me," he amended.  
  
Alex smiled. That morning, restless and untired, she had begun to wander, and soon found Goemon beginning his sunrise meditations. He invited her to join him, which she did; and they had spent the rest of the morning surprising each other with swordfighting techniques. She admired the rigor and precision Goemon applied to both his attack and defense--fighting him was like fighting an exceptional textbook model. Her own tactics, she thought ruefully, were effective but sloppy; she longed to have real technique at her disposal. Moreover, she admired the samurai himself. For all his aloof demeanor and dry elocution, Goemon had within him a deep vein of generous humor, the kind of humor only those at peace can afford to have. That vein was showing itself now, as Goemon lent her a chivalrous hand and pulled her from the shrubs.  
  
"You will have to excuse my impetuous colleague," he said lightly. "Daisuke Jigen is quite protective ...occasionally to a fault."  
  
"I see," Alex replied, dusting herself off with a wry grin. She walked over to examine her sword, which lay bent and broken in the grass. "I also see that he merits his reputation, even injured. That," she said, pointing downward, "is what we call shooting like you mean it."  
  
"Yeah, well I did mean it," drawled a voice full of gravel. The voice belonged to the lanky gunman stalking across the yard, hands in his pockets. "And you're lucky I got a single gentleman's cell in my body, or I wouldn't have settled for your sword."  
  
"Please send that cell my gratitude," Alex replied with a small bow. Goemon permitted one corner of his mouth to curl up in a smile. The girl's delicate, youthful exterior belied her self-possession; and Goemon had seen in her fighting that she knew to turn underestimation to her advantage. The ability to seem harmless: an indispensable skill for the con man, and (in combination with the willful blindness of many men) a tactic of which countless con *women* took advantage.  
  
And yet, Goemon thought, where Fujiko must put on an act of vulnerability, this woman simply retreats into the basic facts of her appearance--her size, her age--and lets her opponent draw the conclusion on his own...no doubt never noticing the deception until it is far too late. It is fortunate for us that she is on our side...  
  
A tingle at the edges of Goemon's senses reminded him that this was far from given.  
  
*******************************************************************  
  
Fujiko ran a single manicured finger down Lupin's nose, punctuating the motion with a friendly poke.  
  
"So," she cooed, "how does our new little friend check out?" Lupin set aside the papers he'd been thumbing for the last twenty minutes, and pulled Fujiko down onto his lap. She lodged only a mild squeal of protest, then settled herself, hands folded expectantly. "All squeaky-clean?"  
  
"She's not a cop, she's not Interpol, she's not FBI, if that's what you mean. Other than that, her record's appropriately dirty." Lupin reached past Fujiko's ample bosom and pulled a few marked sheets out of the pile. "Asaka Marumi Rhodes, goes by Alex in the States--and everywhere else. Born to a British Royal Army captain and a Japanese schoolteacher in Kobe, twenty-four years ago..."  
  
"Japanese!" Fujiko interrupted. "No wonder she looks so damned tan." Lupin favored his pale seatmate with a raised eyebrow, and continued:  
  
"...Half, Fuji my dear. Takes after dear old dad with those nice light eyes, but that blonde hair came out of a bottle. Now let's see...Raised in Tokyo. Mother dies when Asaka is a vulnerable fifteen years old, and her father takes her back to London. Age sixteen: runs away from the public school--some prestigious boarding school near Windsor--where she's ranked number two in her class. Returns to school in a police cruiser five days later, having been caught running a con to raise train fare to Italy. Age eighteen: graduates from said school under police observation, suspected of grand larceny. No arrests made, never charged. Also at age eighteen: takes off for New York, gets a job at an investment bank. Detained and questioned when, three weeks after her arrival, $4 million in company money takes a little walk..." Fujiko laughed. "Again, no arrests...no charges."  
  
"Three weeks, huh?" she said. "She's fast. Tan and fast." Lupin chuckled, and flipped a few more pages. When he reached the packet's end, he slapped it onto Fujiko's lap and sighed.  
  
"Well, Fuji, I'll bite. Little Asaka is suspected on twenty counts of grand theft auto, sixteen counts of embezzlement, one hun--Jesus--one hundred and three counts of grand larceny...and yet she's never spent a day in jail."  
  
"What?"  
  
"She was arrested once, about a year ago. But it looks like that one didn't stick either. Humph," Lupin ran an idle hand through Fujiko's hair. "She's starting to sound like some other people I know." Fujiko batted her lashes.  
  
"Oh really," Fujiko replied, rolling her "l's" expectantly. "Like who, lover?"  
  
"Mmm," Lupin moaned in dreamy reply. "Like me." With a gasp, Fujiko leapt out of the chair, and stalked out of the room, muttering indignantly. Unbalanced, the chair promptly overturned; Lupin landed on the hard floor with a bump.  
  
"Ow!" Lupin exclaimed, rubbing his backside. "Aw, man, what'd I do NOW?"  
  
**************************************************************  
  
Washed and dressed, sipping at a cup of steaming coffee, Jigen left the house again and propped himself up against the base of a tree. Goemon and Alex had resumed their practice runs, and the gunman watched as they dove and lunged across the clearing, meeting and separating with the grating sound of steel on steel. Alex, deft and fluid, bested the formidable samurai about half the time. Her trick, Jigen noticed, was to yield to his oncoming force; when he struck, she absorbed it without trying to beat it back, and he was thrown off by his momentum.  
  
"It is like fighting the Tao Te Ching itself," Goemon said with a chuckle, after a particularly bad run. "The inflexible stone has been eroded by the flowing river." On the next run, though, Goemon deflected Alex's attack and tossed the woman lightly to the ground.  
  
"The inflexible stone," Alex said, catching her breath, "shouldn't be so hard on himself." She leapt up, sword in hand, beckoning Goemon to have another try. Everything small and petty in Jigen screamed, "careful, old man, or she'll step into your shoes, too."  
  
But the samurai's laughter stopped his tongue. The laughter bothered Jigen in a way he couldn't fully understand. It seemed to cut right through him, setting him at ease and then unsettling him again in an instant. He heard himself laughing in a cloudy memory, almost in a dream, laughing with the little blonde girl until it hurt. He'd felt something different then, in that first consciousness; he'd let her minister to him, talk to him, all without any misgiving. And he had suddenly been filled with concern for her...but that was all before, in the fog of injury; before he'd known the damage she could do.  
  
Jigen closed his eyes, Lupin's words from the night before ringing in his head. "You're not shaking me off that easy... doesn't mean it was a bad decision... We gave her a little test-run. She's good, Jigen...". Well. Maybe she was good, Jigen thought. But that doesn't mean I have to like her. Or trust her...no; I sure as hell don't have to trust her. Friggin' women, he thought. Why doesn't everyone else see they're nothing but trouble?  
  
The gentle poke of a toe broke through Jigen's bitter reverie.  
  
"Hey there," came a voice. "Feeling OK?"  
  
He opened his eyes. Nothing But Trouble was looking down at him with a worried face. The same worried face he'd seen when he opened his eyes the night before. But now he was ready to fight it.  
  
"Fine," he growled. The face persisted. "What?!" Jigen half-roared, "I said I'm fine!"  
  
"All right, all right," Alex assured him, palms up. "Goemon and I are done for the day, is all."  
  
"Well, kudos to you," he said, dismissing her with a wave. To Jigen's horror, the woman ignored his gesture and sat down beside him, looking off across the clearing.  
  
"Jesus," she groaned, rubbing the back of her neck. "Sore already. I'm gonna pay for that little workout tomorrow, I can tell you." Jigen answered her with static-filled silence. Alex felt the air between them crackling, and decided nothing would be settled until there was a nice, big explosion. Fine, she thought. Then I'll just go ahead and trigger it.  
  
"Well," she said mock-expectantly, "aren't you going to apologize for almost killing me?"  
  
"Hmph." He continued to look at some invisible point in the distance, blocking her out as best he could. But her presence was nettling him, and it took some restraint for Jigen to avoid blurting out, Fat Friggin' Chance.  
  
"Anyway, it was a good shot," she put in absentmindedly. Jigen focused all his attention on the cup of coffee at his lips. Alex took an imperceptible breath, bracing herself. "How's that bum arm doing?" Jigen raised himself to his feet with a roar.  
  
"Just who the HELL do you think you are?!" He hurled the coffee mug across the clearing. "I've had it up to..." But the sound of gunfire cut him short. The coffee mug, still feet above the ground, shattered into glittering china shards. "What the...?"  
  
He looked down to his feet, where Alex sat with a pistol in her hand, her eyes on the poor mug's remains.  
  
"Sorry," she said, without looking up at him. "Force of habit."  
  
Jigen slumped back to the ground, arms folded across his knees. So Lupin had been right; she was good. And against his better judgment, his anger cooled a bit; the furious tirade died on his lips. He had just needed some proof, he supposed. But it didn't matter, he told himself. She wasn't going to get to him, oh no. Not Daisuke Jigen, he wasn't going to melt. She might get the samurai and the gentleman thief, but that was their business.  
  
Still, he couldn't stir up any more rage just now. Jigen rested his bearded chin on his arms and sighed.  
  
"I really liked that mug," he said. Now, she looked at him. And just like before, the laughter bubbled up between them until it hurt. 


End file.
